Snow King
by Silk Water
Summary: The Snow King is a hateful magician who torments the world with ice and snow. Every year, a sacrifice is offered to protect the Kingdom from the King's tyranny. Can this year's sacrifice, a little orphan boy, find his way through the storm and melt this King's frozen heart? Or will he end up as an icy statue for the King's sick entertainment?
1. Offering Day

**Hey you! Thanks for stopping by! I hope you like this story, and maybe be willing to leave a review? That would be lovely! Also, I take just about any request, so if you want a specific thing to happen, you should definitely let me know~**

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**1. Offering Day**

To a normal person, there wasn't anyone scarier than _him._

The Snow King

The Kingdom of Arrette trembled beneath the mere mention of the name, everyone across the land knew him, and everyone feared him. They had every right to.  
No one was allowed openly talk about the Snow King, and if you did, it had better be a whisper. If anyone thought you worked for him, there was no delay with your arrest.

The world hated him; and he hated the world.

Nobody knew how he came to be, but everyone wished he never existed. Whenever he was angered, blizzards swept into towns. He purposely frosted the crops, knowing that children and livestock would starve. He sent snow to poor villages, knowing that the cold would be too much for the old and weak to bear.

Everyone wanted him to die, but no one had the power to make that dream a reality. He truly was the strongest being to ever exist among humans. And people from all over the land hated him for that. He was a great warlock with a heart of ice, no love for anyone, not even himself...

When the chilling winds became too harsh and the constant snow became too deep, a young prince from across the sea decided to face the Snow King. Once entering the Snow King's castle, the prince felt a chill run down his spine, freezing him to the bone. He pulled is cloak tighter and continued on his quest.

Finally, he met the King. And the chill he felt in that one moment followed him for the rest of his days.

"H-hello," the prince's teeth chattered together. Snow King simply nodded. How dare this pathetic human enter his home, uninvited, unwanted.

"I'm here on behalf of my Kingdom, Bershor, and your neighboring kingdom, Arrette." _Bershor_, the Snow King thought, _that's across the ocean. So, my icy grip finally reached the other side of the continent._ The Snow King's mouth twitched in an unnoticable grin._ More people to torment, how wonderful._

The prince suddenly felt unsure of himself. But he cleared his throat and pressed on.

"I want to make a deal with you, sir. Your snow and ice are killing innocent people everywhere. Doesn't this bother you?"

"No."

The prince was stunned, but continued. "W-well, it needs to stop! So, what could I give you in exchange for no more snow or ice?"

_What an interesting deal..._

The Snow King looked around. There was something missing in his home. But what was it? He had everything he wanted. What could this worthless human give him that he didn't already have? A moment passed, and suddenly, Snow King knew what he wanted.

_"People."_

The prince's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"I want people here. That's the deal," his thick, accented voice said.

The prince stood there, trembling. Why did this man want people? To torture them? Enslave them? _Eat_ them?

"Eh, h-how exactly would you have me do it?" the prince enquired. Snow King sighed, _what an ignorant human.  
_"Listen well, brat. If you want to quell my storms, do as I say," the Snow King said calmly, but there was an almost commanding sound in his voice. The prince nodded.

"Every year, put the names of all the people of Arrette in a bowl. I'll take no younger than 10 and no older than 50. Draw a name from the bowl the day after Christmas, and send them to my castle. I expect them to be here before nightfall. Do you understand?"

The prince was in utter shock. This beast of a man was asking him to offer up _sacrifices_! He shook his head. "Are you sure there isn't any other way? The entire continent is willing to do anything to-"

"Do what _I_ say. Or the deal is off." The Snow King glared at him. But this time, the Prince glared back and marched up to the King's throne. He offered his hand to the King, and they shook on it.

"I'll begin preparations immediately," the prince said before leaving, seeing no other way to solve the problem.

The Snow King smirked at him.

"I know."

**-30 YEARS LATER-**

Everyone in the Kingdom of Arrette stood in the city square. Today was December 26th, otherwise known as the Offering Day. All the men, women, and children gathered together. The population huddled close, knowing they'd lose another citizen in less than 15 minutes to a man who terrorized every move they made. The glass bowl was filled to the brim with folded paper, the name of every person in the city between 10 and 50 years old.

A well-known pastor, who often visited the royals when needed, stood next to the bowl. His honey eyes were filled with sadness. Today, Pastor Vargas would have the hardest choice that now existed.

The clock struck 12:00. Instantly, Pastor Vargas stuck his hand in the bowl and fished around. Everyone held their breath. He pulled out a piece of paper, gazing at the name. It was a child's name. A little orphaned boy he visited sometimes, who was 12.

"This year's offering is," he cleared his throat.

_"Emil Steilsson."_

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**After I wrote this, I suddenly realized how similar it is to the Hunger Games reaping. Ugh. Oh well. **


	2. Leaving Arrette

**Thanks for all the lovely comments~ I was actually inspired by a piece by MaryIL (I hope the link works) and it gave me major feels XD Please, review and give plot suggestions! Look on my profile for it, and if that doesn't work just look her up on deviantart.**

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**2. Leaving Arrette**

Emil never gave much thought to how he would die. He hoped it would be in a heroic way, like giving up his life to save someone else's.

But that thought was short-lived.

_"Emil Steilsson."_

He was already dead.

The crowd gasped. Never in the 30 years since this madness had begun had a child so young been chosen. Mothers clung to their children, and for once in his life, Emil saw other people crying. _For him._

He heard stories about the Snow King, about what a horrible person he was, and that he purposely hurt innocent people simply for enjoyment. Sometimes he did it because he didn't have anything better to do.`

"Little one," Pastor Vargas spoke, "come with me." Emil inched his way through the city's population, hiked up the cathedral stairs, and stood next to Pastor Vargas. The pastor gave him a sad smile, and placed a hand on his shoulder, leading the little boy inside the cathedral and away from the outside world.

The heavy iron doors clicked behind them, and Emil suddenly lost his confidence. This really was the end. But that didn't scare him. What scared him was not knowing how his death would be brought about. Would it be quick and painless? Or would he suffer slowly? Suddenly, his throat was dry like a desert.

Pastor Vargas led him to a long wooden table. They sat in silence together, until the Pastor decided it was best to get anything unclear out of the way; it was time for the boy to understand his fate.

"Emil, do you know what happened?"

The boy nodded. "I'm the Offering for this year." The Pastor was surprised. Emil sounded dull. Wasn't he afraid of the Snow King? Didn't he know he was dead as soon as he left Arrette? Upon closer inspection, Pastor Vargas knew he was scared. Emil was shaking.

"Yes. But...do you know what that means?"

Emil nodded. "It means I'll die soon. And I'm... saving the town for a year?" Emil didn't get that part. Everyone said that sacrifices saved people, but if that was true, why did they have to do it every year?

Pastor Vargas stood from his sit and grabbed Emil in a tight hug. His huge white robe draped over Emil, and he felt safe in the Pastor's arms. Of course, the hug broke, and Emil felt more exposed than ever. Taking the child's hand, he led them through the church corridors, towards the Blessing Hall. It was customary to pray for anyone who was chosen and give them blessings before they left.

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"In your name we pray. Amen." Pastor Vargas said, keeping his hands on Emil's back.

There was clattering outside with the neighing of horses. Probably the carriage, arriving right on time.

"Be well, Emil. No matter what happens, you're always in my thoughts," Pastor Vargas said humbly.

Emil didn't bother looking back as he climbed the carriage steps. Upon entering, he saw that everything from his room in the orphanage was placed in the carriage. It wasn't much; a bag of clothes, a puffin plush, and a book of fairy tales. Suddenly, the carriage took of with a jolt and poor Emil fell flat on his face.

"Stupid driver," he complained, rubbing his face. Sitting by the window, Emil watched as the scenery faded from the cobblestone streets of Arrette to the snowy farming fields outside the city's walls. It took a while to get to Rorstell, which was the drop off. It took a good 5 hours to get there, and Emil couldn't remember a time in his life when his butt had been so numb from sitting.

The coachman opened the door and little Emil slipped out, his satchel slung on his back.

"Alright boy, now listen here! See that trail?" he pointed in the distance to a snowy trailed, lined with mismatched stones. Emil nodded.

"Follow it! And don't you dare leave that trail, or you've doomed us all! You understand?" He nodded again.

"Alright. Good luck, kid..." With that, the coachman snapped his reigns and the horses turned to head back to Rorstell.

With the carriage out of sight, Emil began his trek through the snow. Snow never really bothered him. If anything, he felt at home in the cold. Pulling his fuzzy coat tighter,, he braced for the worst. The snow was getting deeper, tugging at his knees. The wind was picking up, too.

It was almost like... they knew he was coming.

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The castle was beautiful. Everything was sculpted from ice and decorated with snow. The snow glittered in the fading sunlight, so Emil began to hurry towards the iron bar gates that surrounded the castle. He had to meet with the King before nightfall, or else the deal was broken. Slipping through the slightly opened gate, Emil sprinted for the main doors. He figured the sooner he met the monster, the sooner he would die. And then he'd have eternal rest from running, or fevers, or chilly wind.

Suddenly, the doors slowly opened on their own. Emil shrunk back, suddenly feeling no bigger than a mouse. Walking through the doors, he heard them slide back into place behind him.

The inside of the castle was dim. Candles that lined the floor and chandeliers were made of snow, and the flames were a soft blue. The carpets were a mix of dark blues, white, and purples. Black beads coiled around canvases and embedded in rugs and the ceiling glittered softly from the eerie candlelight.  
Painting of horned animals and snowy landscapes hung on the walls. Tapestries hung from the wall in hues of deep navy.

This place was breath-taking. For a despicable human being, this guy was a great interior decorator.

Emil spun in a circle, glancing at every detail in every crevice. Continuing his walk down the long hall, he noticed small ebony statues, shaped like woodland creatures. There were birds, mice, rabbits, and a fox.

He hurried down the hallway, hoping to get this over with. His 12-year-old nerves were quivering, and he was at full sprint when he ran into something that sent him tumbling backwards. Emil shook himself off and peered up. His breathing hitched and his baby blue eyes locked with a pair of glaring navy.

Towering above him was the King himself...

"How dare you... Stand up, brat." the King spoke. Those three words shattered any courage Emil had.

He shook his head and stood up. Emil hated how short he was. Everyone always poked at him for it. He barely reached the King's knees.  
"Are you the offering?" _He looks like a five year old. Those fools..._

"Y-yes, s-sir," he stuttered.

"Talk about yourself. Now." He demanded.

Emil swallowed hard. "My name's Emil Steilsson and I'm an orphan. I'm 12 and..."

"And?"

"N-nothing!"

The King glared at him hatefully. _So he's really 12... That baby face fooled me well enough..._

_GRAB_

He snatched Emil's hand and tugged him away from the main room and into a guest room. He shoved the child in and locked the door behind him.

"You'll sleep here tonight. If I hear a single sound from this room I'll _feed you to the wolves_. Understand?"

"Y-yes, sir," he replied meekly.

After the King's footsteps faded, Emil warily crossed the room to the bed. He noticed a fireplace on the opposite wall. The flames were purple... And he didn't notice how warm the room was until now. The bed sheets were solid white, softer than silk. He cuddled into the covers, squeezing his puffin plush. Emil didn't feel safe at all. He didn't think things could get much worse.

Until he heard a wolf howl somewhere outside the castle.

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**Lame ending is lame... As much as I love these characters, they can be difficult to interpret... Oh well. Never give up, right?**


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